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Men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain.
人就像蝴蝶一样从我们眼前掠过，是短暂季节的产物。我们爱他们;他们勇敢、骄傲、美丽、聪明;他们几乎同时死去。他们死得那么快，我们的心不断地为痛苦所折磨。